Chapter 7: The Woman Waiting Across the Table
Angela Reed arrived twelve minutes early.
I knew because I checked the clock on the wall of the family counseling center three times before she walked through the door.
Leo sat beside me, bouncing one knee beneath the table. He had changed his shirt twice that morning and spent nearly twenty minutes fixing his hair, insisting each time that he didn't care what his birth mother thought of him.
Now he stared at the entrance.
He hadn't said much during the drive.
Neither had I.
The meeting had been arranged through the adoption agency, with Marlene Brooks and a licensed family counselor present. The counselor had explained that Leo could take breaks, ask questions, or end the meeting whenever he wanted. Angela had agreed to those conditions without hesitation.
I was grateful for that.
I was also terrified.
I had spent sixteen years being the person Leo ran to when the world frightened him. I had wiped his tears, kissed his scraped knees, sat beside his bed during thunderstorms, and held him through the grief of his first broken friendship.
Now another woman was about to sit across from him and tell him things about the beginning of his life that I could never know firsthand.
I had no idea what that would do to him.
At 10:12 a.m., the door opened.
A woman stepped inside wearing dark jeans, a cream sweater, and a long brown coat. Her braids were pulled into a neat bun, and she held a small handbag against her side.
She looked older than she had in the photograph, naturally. There were faint lines around her eyes, and her shoulders seemed tense beneath her coat.
But her eyes were unmistakable.
Leo's eyes.
She stopped when she saw him.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Angela whispered, “Leo?””
He stood.
“Yeah.””
Her hand rose to her mouth.
“Oh, my goodness.””
She took one step forward, then stopped, apparently unsure whether she was allowed to come closer.
The counselor gently introduced everyone.
Angela nodded without seeming to hear much of it. Her attention remained fixed on Leo's face.
“You're so tall,” she said.
Leo gave an awkward shrug.
“People keep telling me that.””
Angela laughed through her tears.
“I'm sorry. I know that's a silly thing to say.””
“It's okay.””
She looked at his face again.
“You have my eyes.””
Leo glanced at me.
I gave him a small nod.
He turned back toward her.
“So I've been told.””
Angela pulled out the chair across from him.
“May I sit?””
He nodded.
We settled around the table, and for several minutes, the conversation moved in tiny, uncertain steps.
Angela asked about school.
Leo told her he was a sophomore and liked basketball, although he wasn't on the team that season.
She asked what subjects he enjoyed.
“History,” he said.
“Sometimes English.””
“What do you like to do when you're not at school?””
“Play video games. Hang out with friends.””
Angela smiled.
“Your grandmother used to say you would probably like stories. She always said you watched everything around you like you were trying to figure out how the world worked.””
Leo's expression changed.
“My birth grandmother?””
“Yes. My mother.””
He looked down at his hands.
“Did she know about me?””
Angela's smile faded.
“Yes. She knew you existed. She loved you in the way she understood how to love you, but we had a complicated relationship, especially around the time you were born.””
“Is she still alive?””
Angela hesitated.
“No, sweetheart. She passed away six years ago.””
Leo absorbed that quietly.
I watched him press his lips together, trying to keep his expression neutral.
Another person he would never meet.
Another piece of his history he couldn't recover.
“I'm sorry,” he said finally.
Angela nodded.
“Thank you.””
The counselor gave them time before asking whether they wanted to continue.
Leo nodded.
Then he looked directly at Angela.
“Why did you give me up?””
The question was blunt, but his voice trembled.
Angela folded her hands on the table.
“Because I was nineteen, and I was scared. I had just finished high school. I was working part-time, living with my mother, and trying to figure out how to build a life for myself. When I found out I was pregnant, I didn't know what to do.””
She paused.
“I loved you before you were born. But love didn't magically give me money, a stable home, or the ability to raise a baby on my own.””
Leo watched her carefully.
“I wanted to believe I could make everything work. My mother wanted me to keep you. She thought the family could help. But our relationship was difficult, and we argued about almost everything.””
“What did you argue about?””
“Whether I could raise you independently. Whether I should finish school. Whether I would regret the adoption.””
She swallowed.
“I was afraid that if I kept you, you might grow up surrounded by the same instability I had experienced. I thought giving you the opportunity to have a more secure home was the most loving choice I could make.””
Leo stared at the table.
“So you just handed me over to somebody you didn't know?””
“I met your mother through the agency. I learned about her background, her home, and the preparations she had made. But yes, I had to trust people I didn't know very well.””
Angela looked at me.
“And I hoped she would love you.””
I felt my throat tighten.
“I did,” I said.
Angela nodded.
“I can see that.””
For a moment, our eyes met.
There was no hostility in hers.
Only gratitude, sadness, and something I couldn't quite identify.
Then Leo spoke again.
“Did you ever regret it?””
Angela's face crumpled.
She looked down, took a breath, and then met his gaze.
“I regretted that I couldn't raise you myself. I regretted missing your first steps, your first words, your birthdays, and all the ordinary things that make up a childhood.””
She wiped her cheek.
“But I never regretted wanting you to have a safe, loving home.””
Leo's eyes filled.
“That sounds like you're saying you didn't regret giving me up.””
“I understand why it sounds that way.””
“Because you don't know me.””
The words came out sharply.
Angela flinched.
“You're right,” she whispered.
“I don't know the person you've become. I know the baby I held and the little boy I imagined you might grow into. I don't know your favorite food or what makes you angry or what you dream about at night.””
She took another breath.
“I want to know those things, if you'll let me. But I can't pretend I was there when I wasn't.””
Leo turned his face away.
For a moment, I thought he might leave.
Instead, he asked, “Why did you contact me now?””
Angela reached into her handbag and removed a small envelope.
“I've thought about contacting you for years. But I didn't want to disrupt your life. I didn't want you to feel that I was demanding a place in your family.””
She placed the envelope on the table.
“Three months ago, I learned that the agency's historical file contained information about the circumstances surrounding your placement. I had asked for help understanding what had happened, and I was concerned that you had never been told the full story.””
Leo glanced at me.
Angela noticed.
“I know Denise has told you some things.””
“She told me about Grandma.””
Angela nodded.
“I heard about that from the agency. I don't want to turn this meeting into an argument about your grandmother or your mother. But I do think you deserve to understand what happened.””
She opened the envelope and removed a copy of a letter.
“My mother wanted you to remain with our family. She believed I was too young to make the decision. When I chose adoption, she was devastated. She thought I would regret it.””
“Did she hate me?””
“No.””
Angela answered immediately.
“No, Leo. She never hated you. She was angry with me, and she was angry at the situation. Sometimes she expressed that anger in ways that made it difficult for me to think clearly.””
She looked at the letter.
“After the adoption was finalized, she asked whether she could receive updates about you. I didn't know what happened to that request. I assumed the agency had explained the boundaries to her.””
Leo's face tightened.
“Grandma said she didn't know whether you tried to stop the adoption.””
“She may not have known everything. But I want you to understand something important. Your adoption wasn't finalized because someone forced me to give you away.
I confirmed my decision. I signed the consent documents, and I understood that the adoption would establish a permanent legal family.””
Angela looked at me.
“I knew Denise was prepared to raise you. I wanted you to have that chance.””
Leo rubbed his face.
“So everybody made decisions about me without asking me.””
Angela nodded slowly.
“Yes. You were a baby. You couldn't choose. The adults had to make decisions, and we didn't always handle those decisions perfectly.””
She leaned forward.
“But that doesn't mean your life was a mistake. And it doesn't mean you owe any of us a particular feeling about what happened.””
Leo stared at her.
Then he asked the question that had been haunting him since the night of the water.
“Would you take me now?””
The room fell silent.
Angela's eyes widened.
I felt my entire body go rigid.
The counselor shifted slightly, ready to intervene if the conversation became overwhelming.
Angela didn't rush her answer.
She looked at Leo for a long moment.
“I love you,” she said.
“And if you're asking whether I want a relationship with you, yes. I do.””
Leo waited.
“But I don't want to promise you a life I haven't discussed with the people who would be involved. You're sixteen. You have a mother, a home, a school, and a life here. I won't make a promise about custody or living arrangements in a room like this.””
Leo's face fell.
“So that's a no.””
“No,” Angela said firmly.
“It's an honest answer. I want to get to know you. I want to hear about your life.
I want to be part of your story if you want that, too. But I'm not going to tell you to leave your mother or make you choose between us.””
He looked down at his hands.
Then he asked, “What did you want to tell me that couldn't go in a letter?””
Angela's expression changed.
She glanced toward Marlene, who gave her a small nod.
Angela reached into the envelope again and removed a folded document.
“I wanted to tell you that when you were born, there was a medical concern that your original records may not have fully explained. I recently obtained additional information through the proper records process.””
Leo looked up.
“What kind of medical concern?””
Angela took his hand across the table.
“It's about your family medical history. And it could be important for you to know as you get older.””
My heart began to pound.
“What does that mean?”” Leo asked.
Angela swallowed.
“It means there may be a condition in our biological family that doctors should know about. I don't want to frighten you, and I don't know whether it affects you. But I have information that could help your doctor understand what to look for.””
Leo stared at her.
For the first time since the meeting began, his anger seemed to disappear completely.
“Am I sick?””
Angela shook her head.
“I don't know, sweetheart. That's why I wanted to tell you in person. You deserve accurate information, not guesses.””
She slid the document toward him.
I looked at the page.
At the top was the name of a hospital.
Beneath it was a reference number from an old medical record.
And at the bottom, beside a physician's signature, was a diagnosis I recognized from my work at the nursing facility.
A diagnosis that could run in families.
A diagnosis that might explain why Angela had been so insistent that Leo learn the truth before his seventeenth birthday.
I reached for the page, my hands trembling.
May you like
Because if the information was correct, this meeting had become about much more than the past.
It was about something we might need to face together in the future.
